


(the jury's out) but my choice is you

by bageldiscourse, catching_paper_moons



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 12:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bageldiscourse/pseuds/bageldiscourse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/catching_paper_moons/pseuds/catching_paper_moons
Summary: Mat gets home and throws himself on the couch, differently from his first day.“I love the 6 a.m. shift,” he sighs, a little dreamy.Tito doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. “Your tune’s changed.” He looks up and Mat is staring off into space looking entirely too happy for someone who started working at 6 a.m. “Who’d you meet?”“Absolutely no one,” Mat says, swirling the coffee around in his cup, still staring dreamily into the distance. He finally looks at Tito. “What makes you say that?”“You’re literally dreamily sighing into your coffee,” Tito says pointedly, and Mat shrugs.





	(the jury's out) but my choice is you

**Author's Note:**

> title is from taylor swift's ours.
> 
> see end notes for untagged warnings, but otherwise enjoy!

As much as Mat wants to take credit for the idea, it’s Tito who’s responsible, this time.

See, the thing is—Mat _loves_ college. Between playing hockey, the various clubs and organizations Tito drags him to, or going to parties, he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t busy over the weekend.

Which is why the instant summer break starts, Mat is _bored_.

Like, Tito-what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to- _do_ bored, and Tito has been putting up with it for the better part of two weeks before he finally snaps.

“Dude,” Tito says, when Mat’s halfway through his rant of the day about how much summer break is the absolute worst. He’s lying upside down on his bed in their shared apartment, staring blankly out the window, and Tito is glaring at him, scrolling through Instagram and sitting on his bed on the other side of the room. “You want something to do? Get a job.”

Aside from hockey, Mat doesn’t have any marketable skills. There’s a reason he’s majoring in communications, and that reason is to be able to talk about hockey for a living should he have to stop playing it, not to go out and get a job on like, Wall Street, or anything. So, realistically, that’s not going to happen. “What?”

“I _said_ —”

“I know what you said, Tito,” Mat says flatly. “I’m just saying, where would a twenty year old college kid with no real-world skills get a job?”

Tito shrugs. “Starbucks across the street is hiring, I think.”

“I’m not…” Mat says, trying to protest, but then he stops and thinks about it. All he knows about Starbucks workers is they have to memorize how to make a shit-ton of drinks, work ridiculously early shifts, usually, and smile at customers, no matter how grumpy. Mat can do all of those things, theoretically. “Actually, yeah. Yeah, you know what, you’re right.”

“Atta boy, Barz,” Tito grins. “You wanna go out for dinner? I’m feeling lazy.”

It’s a question that answers itself, really, as Mat perks up simply upon hearing the word ‘dinner.’

  
  


 

So Mat walks into the shop the next morning, and within ten minutes he’s handed an apron—with a nametag that, fittingly, says MATT—and hat and is instructed to, starting the next day, work the 6 a.m. shift, which isn’t ideal, honestly, but. He’s allowed two free coffees every day he works, and he gets an additional 30% off after that, so it’s a tradeoff he’ll willingly accept.

He makes friends with his coworkers fairly quickly; Mitchell Stephens, the barista, is his favorite, because he’s not overly intense for ass o’clock in the morning, and he makes Mat latte art when the shop is empty and Mat’s complaining about being awake before the sun.

Still, though, his shift doesn’t end until 2, and by that time Mat feels like the next time he sits down, he may never stand back up again.

(Like, seriously: that first morning, Mat makes it through his shift purely on caffeine and adrenaline alone.)

“ _Fuck_ the 6 a.m. shift,” Mat declares once he’s all of halfway through the door.

“How was the first day?” Tito calls from the living room, where he’s watching the cooking channel.

“God awful,” Mat says, throwing his keys in the bowl and flopping down next to Tito. He rubs at his eyes. “I’m exhausted.”

“That bad?” Tito winces, and Mat shrugs.

“Not that it was... bad, just like. You know what sucks? Being up before the sun. Being up earlier than like, 10. I’m so not a morning person, and I can’t believe I have the 6 a.m. shift _every day_ ,” Mat rambles. He’s _so tired_. Tito doesn’t even respond, either, just hums and pats Mat’s knee. Mat frowns. “Are you even listening to me?”

“No,” Tito responds, and Mat supposes that’s fair. He heaves himself up from the couch and looks back at Tito, looking for a response, and when Tito doesn’t grace him with one, he takes himself the fuck to sleep.

  
  
  


After two and a half weeks, Mat is an expert behind the cash register, well equipped to handle anything. He can deal with overly grumpy customers, the half-awake orders and the complicated ones, and even the occasional screaming baby.

However, he was absolutely not prepared for the morning a slightly disheveled and stupidly attractive guy in a suit that looks anything but comfortable walks through the door with an important looking stack of folders in his hand, on the phone with who Mat can only assume is his boss, based on the conversation he’s hearing.

“Yes, Mr. Snow, I understand—” says the guy, and then he cards a hand through his hair a little nervously as he gets interrupted, and Mat has to busy himself with restacking cups so he doesn’t get caught staring. “Seven fifteen sharp, absolutely,” he says next, and then his boss supposedly hangs up on him, because he swears under his breath as he walks toward the register to order.

He takes a deep breath, pockets his phone, and says, “Hi.”

“Good morning,” Mat says, putting on his best customer service smile. “What can I get for you?”

The guy bites his lip, and—as distracting as it is, Mat knows that look. That’s the look that tells Mat he’s about to hear an overcomplicated or extensive order. “Um, so I’m gonna need eight coffees.”

“Absolutely,” Mat says, pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t as bad as he’d braced himself for, and then he asks, “Cream or sugar with any of those?”

“Both would be great.”

“And what’s your name?” Mat asks next, even though the store is just about empty right now so it’s not like he _needs_ it, but.

“Jordan,” says the guy, which Mat scribbles on eight cups before ringing up his order.

“That’ll be twenty dollars even,” he says, and when Jordan hands over his credit card, their hands sort of linger for a hot second, before Mat blushes and breaks away to complete the transaction.

After he’s finished, Jordan walks over to the other side of the counter to wait for his coffees, and Mat contemplates the pros and cons of like, attempting to start a conversation with this complete stranger.

Impulse gets the best of him, and as Mitch is pouring coffees, Mat says, “So, Jordan. You new to the area?”

Jordan looks up from his phone, and nods. “Relocated from Edmonton,” he says.

“And what exactly do you do, besides carry around important looking stacks of paper and go on coffee runs?” Mat says, hoping it doesn’t come off as condescending, because he genuinely is interested to know.

“I work at a law firm,” Jordan says, his hands shoved in the pocket of his pants so he doesn’t fidget as he waits. “I’m the youngest employee, so my boss makes me do things like get coffee or order lunch, but I’m an assistant in the family attorney department.”

“Oh, so, you’re important,” Mat says as Mitch puts the coffee into cup holders, and he immediately winces at how that sounds. Jordan just laughs quietly, though, and the sound is music to Mat’s ears.

“I mean, I guess you could say that,” Jordan says, smiling. Mat takes a moment to just look. His smile is lopsided, a little, and he has a bit of a gap tooth, yet he’s still one of the most beautiful guys Mat’s ever seen. And listen, Mat’s seen a lot of beautiful people, so that’s really saying something.

“Cool,” Mat says, a bit awkwardly, not knowing what else to say, but Jordan just smiles more at him. He thanks Mitch for the coffees and smiles at Mat on his way out, and Mat stares after him and sighs.

“Uh,” Mitch says, and snaps his fingers in front of Mat’s face. Mat blinks and looks over at Mitch, doe-eyed, and Mitch rolls his eyes. “Unreal, dude. You’ve been here for two weeks.”

Mat really has no response for that.

  


 

 

Mat gets home and throws himself on the couch, differently from his first day.

“I love the 6 a.m. shift,” he sighs, a little dreamy.

Tito doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. “Your tune’s changed.” He looks up and Mat is staring off into space looking entirely too happy for someone who started working at 6 a.m. “Who’d you meet?”

“Absolutely no one,” Mat says, swirling the coffee around in his cup, still staring dreamily into the distance. He finally looks at Tito. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re literally dreamily sighing into your coffee,” Tito says pointedly, and Mat shrugs.

“Who’s to say?” He takes a sip of his coffee, looking out the window, and then gets up. “I’m gonna nap, goodnight!”

He jumps into his bed, the covers soft beneath him, and he thinks a lot about how cute that guy was. Like, a lot. He tries to look him up on Facebook, Jordan from Edmonton, but no dice; there seems to be too many Jordans from Edmonton and none of them look like this Jordan.

When he wakes up from his nap, Tito’s gone, and Mat uses the alone time to make himself dinner and also try and creep on this guy. He uses his computer this time and looks on Twitter, Pinterest, even LinkedIn before trying Facebook again. Lo and behold, he finally finds the guy.

“This is so weird,” he says to himself as he scrolls through all Jordan’s embarrassing profile pictures. The quality is crappy but it’s definitely him, and even though Mat knows it’s not love, there’s no way, he’s still content to creep on this guy’s profile because really, who knows if he’ll ever see him again.

He’ll let himself have this.

  
  


 

To Mat’s pleasant surprise, Jordan walks into the shop an hour or so into his shift again the next morning, and almost every single day after that for the next few weeks.

Mat tries to get Jordan to order something less boring than just hot coffee with cream and sugar for himself every time, failing nearly every time for a long time until Jordan finally gives in one day.

“We literally have like, dozens of drinks you could try,” Mat offers, as he’s scribbling Jordan’s name on a cup. “Like, dirty chai, macchiato—even a latte would be less boring, man, are you sure you don’t wanna try something new?”

Jordan laughs, loud and bright, and Mat doesn’t even care that it’s 6:30 in the morning, he could listen to that sound forever. “No, it’s okay, I’m pretty boring myself,” Jordan responds, and Mat rolls his eyes, amused. “What, are you gonna make something special just for me?”

“You know what?” Mat says, and he and Mitch switch places effortlessly. “Yeah, I think I will.” There’s a twinkle in his eye and he knows he’s unabashedly flirting; he wouldn’t be Mat Barzal if he didn’t unabashedly flirt with hot customers, but there’s something different about Jordan, and he likes making Jordan smile, so. He’ll make a special drink for a special customer if he so pleases.

He pumps the seven regular coffees, cream in all of them, and then he makes a white mocha for Jordan, handing it over the counter for Jordan to try.

“Here, try this,” he says, and Jordan laughs and then takes a sip, eyebrows raising as he takes another.

“It’s sweet,” he says.

“Like you,” Mat replies, winking, and Jordan’s face flushes as he attempts to hide behind his coffee cup. Mat might actually be fucked.

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you later,” Jordan says, still blushing as he leaves, but he’s smiling and waving, so Mat’s going to count that as a win.

  
  
  


So: Mat keeps seeing Jordan, keeps flirting with him, and keeps barely making it through the morning shift without complaining to Mitch about how early it is at _least_ ten times.

It all comes to a head after about a month of this, when Mat gets the worst piece of good news from Jordan.

“Your regular eight coffees?” Mat asks once Jordan reaches the front of the line, grabbing a cup and writing his usual order on it.

“Actually, just one for me today,” Jordan says, and Mat perks an eyebrow at him. “I kind of—got promoted.”

“Holy shit,” Mat says, a little too loud, giggling a little when his coworkers glare at him for swearing so loudly. “That’s awesome, dude, wow,” he says, using his inside voice this time.

“Thanks,” Jordan says, with his signature lopsided smile. “Yeah, no more big coffee runs for me, which is nice,” he adds, and Mat nearly drops the cup in his hand once he registers that Jordan means he likely won’t be brightening up Mat’s shift anymore.

“Are you okay?” Jordan says, after a minute, when Mat still hasn’t moved, seemingly frozen in place as he tries to process what’s going on.

“Yeah, it’s—” Mat says, and then he has to take a deep breath before he continues. “It’s good, I’m just a little tired. It’s early, you know. That’s gonna be $3.60.”

“Alright,” Jordan nods, and then he pays for his coffee and steps out of line.

Mitch makes Jordan’s coffee, Mat rings up the only other person in line, and then busies himself with rewriting the specials of the day on the chalkboard at the front of the store.

“You sure you’re okay? You’re too quiet today,” Jordan asks, sitting in a chair next to him, and when Mat looks up at him his eyes are soft and kind and just—beautiful, and nope. Mat absolutely cannot do this right now.

He spends a minute looking everywhere but back at Jordan, and then he blurts out, “Do you want to go to dinner with me tonight?” when he figures he has nothing to lose, that it’s worth a shot.

Mat thinks he sees Jordan’s face fall slightly, and he goes to backtrack, but before he can get it out Jordan says, “How about tomorrow night?”

Mat bites his lip, grabs Jordan’s cup from his hand and scribbles something on the side before handing it back. “Text me,” he says.

Jordan smiles in response, says, “Of course,” and Mat feels his heart flutter a little. “See you tomorrow.” Jordan waves, and Mat breathes out a sigh of relief when Mitch walks in to see Mat red-faced and smiling.

“I don’t even want to know,” he says, and Mat actually laughs out loud.

It’s a good morning.

  
  


 

He gets a text from Jordan late that night, when he’s in the middle of playing video games with Tito.

**Jordan (10:47 PM)**

Hey, it’s Jordan

Mat’s controller drops to the floor unceremoniously when he sees it, because he’s embarrassing. He lunges over to grab his phone as Tito says, “Who’s that?”

“Huh?” Mat says, not looking up from his phone. “Oh, um. It’s Jordan, he stops by during my shift sometimes? I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before.”

**Mat (10:47 PM)**

hey! what’s up?

“Sometimes I’m convinced you don’t do any actual work, and all you do is flirt with your customers,” Tito says, abandoning his own controller, too. “Or, y’know. One customer.”

“I get paid _and_ get tips, so clearly I work, Tito,” Mat says.

**Jordan (10:49 PM)**

Not much, just wanted to make sure you had my number :)

He takes a deep breath and shakes out all his nerves. Jordan is texting him. This is good. This is a very good thing, and there’s absolutely no reason for Mat to be as excited about this as he is, but. Here we are.

Mat will be the first one to admit he spends too much time thinking of a reply before deciding on one he hopes is like, casual, but still displays his interest adequately.

**Mat (10:52 PM)**

sweet, can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

Jordan doesn’t reply right away, which is fine, it’s late and they both have work early the next morning; Mat decides it’s probably best for him to take his ass to bed, as opposed to like, opening and closing and then reopening the iMessage app, which is what he’s currently doing.

So he goes to bed, gets a solid six hours, and is greeted by a text from Jordan when he unlocks his phone and scrolls through his messages in bed.

**Jordan (12:59 AM)**

Maybe I’ll even get lucky and you’ll make me something special again?

**Mat (5:26 AM)**

i could probably be convinced

The text puts Mat in an especially good mood as he walks into the shop, as Mitch so kindly points out when he finds Mat whistling as he makes a coffee for himself a few minutes before opening time.

“Dude, what’s got you in such a good mood,” he says flatly. “It’s fuck o’clock and you slipped and fell on your ass on your way into the break room and you’re still so _happy_. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re about to get laid.”

“Well,” Mat says, “not _about_ to, exactly—”

“Mathew Barzal, if you’ve just had sex, I _so_ do not want to hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t—I wasn’t gonna tell you about my sex life anyway, Stephens, Jesus,” Mat insists, though he’d be a filthy liar to say he’d be able to keep it to himself if he’d had sex with Jordan fucking Eberle. He shrugs, says, “Like, it’s possibly in my future, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’m happy for you,” Mitch groans. “Just, y’know, try to be less insufferable about it, maybe?”

Which— _please_ , Mitchell Stephens is hardly one to talk about someone else being insufferable. “Tell me more about that Taylor Raddysh kid? You know, with the pretty eyes and gorgeous smile and stupid jokes that you laugh at anyway for some reason?” Mat asks innocently. “You finally make a move yet?”

“I mean, no—there’s nothing—he doesn’t even like me, so it’s not like it _matters_ ,” Mitch stumbles through, before he realizes what Mat’s doing. “Christ,” he murmurs. “Get ready, asshole, morning rush is gonna pour in soon.”

Just as he had predicted, they’re swamped not ten minutes later, and they don’t really have time for a full conversation until just before the lunch crowd rolls in.

And, like Mat’s gotten so used to, same as every morning, Jordan shows up promptly at seven with a prize-winning smile and a stack of papers in his hands.

“Good morning, sunshine,” says Mat, once Jordan greets him with a very lawyer-in-training-stressed-out hello.

Jordan blushes. “I believe you promised me something sweet? I hardly slept last night, I could use some sugar and caffeine right now.”

“Coming right up,” Mat nods very seriously. “How does a butterscotch latte sound?”

“That’d be great, thank you so much,” Jordan says. He runs his hands through his hair, and Mat’s heart flutters.

“Big day in the office?” Mat asks, because there’s nobody in line behind him.

“I’ve been up all night reviewing these contracts,” Jordan nods, gesturing at the pile of papers in his arms with his free hand. “Actually, if it wouldn’t be a huge distraction to you, I think maybe I’ll just finish up here before I head to the office?”

“Of course,” Mat says, sliding Jordan’s drink across the counter, because he can be a professional. He can be a professional employee of this establishment and also not spend every moment he’s not busy with customers staring at Jordan’s side profile as he sits in front of dozens of legal documents, his shirt sleeves pushed up to expose his forearms, his hair endearingly unkempt due to his tendency to run his hands through it—

Well. Maybe he can’t, actually.

After a couple of hours of Jordan indirectly distracting Mat with his, like, _everything_ , Jordan finishes, and waves goodbye to Mat with the slightest upturn of a lopsided Jordan Eberle smile as he walks out the door and to his car, and that’s when Mat is sure—is _so_ sure—that he’s totally gone for this guy.

And that’s just too big a revelation for him to be having before noon, he decides, so he brews himself another coffee and texts Tito that once Mat gets off work they’re going to need a lot of milkshakes and fries to deal with this.

  


 

 

Tito does take him to DQ for lunch, because he’s a saint, and Mat drags along Mitch and Taylor, too, because he’s not about to suffer through talking about his feelings without ample support.

The three of them at least have the decency to wait until Mat’s halfway done with his enormous mound of fries before Taylor says, “So you’re in pretty deep here, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Mat says, mostly a groan, mouth still half full. “Like, have you seen him _smile_ —”

“You’ve definitely mentioned his smile before, yes,” Tito says.

“I’m just saying, if you’ve ever seen his smile, you’d understand me, okay?”

Mitch takes this opportunity to say, “Please, Mathew, tell us more about how his smile is like petting multiple puppies at once and seeing a double rainbow and—”

“Mitchell, stop it, I don’t even sound like that,” Mat scoffs.

“You’re pretty embarrassing about this guy,” Mitch says, and looks straight at Mat, as if to say, _don’t even go there_.

“Buddy, you have no idea,” Mat says.

“I think, what Mitch means is he’s just a normal guy, and you shouldn’t be so nervous to ask him out if you want to,” Taylor adds thoughtfully.

“ _No_ idea,” Mat repeats gleefully, and Mitch sighs, dramatic.

“I need better friends,” Tito mumbles, as Taylor and Mitch go back to making heart eyes at each other from across the table while Mat keeps rambling about Jordan to nobody in particular.

Mat gets a text from Jordan in the middle of eating another handful of fries, and he scrambles to answer it before the three of them do first.

**Jordan (2:43 PM)**

Hey, so how does burgers sound for tonight?

Mat takes one look at the uneaten burger on his plate and promptly hands it to Tito, who makes a noise of objection. Mat runs his hands through his hair and places palms on the table very deliberately, taking a slow breath.

“Oh, so he texted you,” Tito says, taking a bite of Mat’s burger, and then grabbing his phone.

“Hey!”

“Oh, that’s why I have your burger,” he says, and Mat narrows his eyes. “Obviously you should tell him yes. I hope he doesn’t take you to DQ as the first date.”

“Who said there was going to be a second?” Mitch says, and Mat groans. He needs better friends. He wiggles his fingers, and Tito reluctantly hands Mat his phone back. He slowly types out a response.

**Mat (2:47 PM)**

hi! burgers are great, i have no objections haha

**Jordan (2:47 PM)**

Perfect. See you at 6:30?

**Mat (2:48 PM)**

sounds great :)

As they get up to throw away their trash, Tito takes him aside.

“You know I’m happy for you, right? And you don’t need to be nervous,” he says as they wave goodbye to Taylor and Mitch. They stop to unlock Tito’s car, and Tito says, “He definitely likes you.”

“Sure,” Mat says as he slides into the passenger seat. He unlocks his phone, then locks it again. He really needs to get a grip, honestly.

“I’m serious,” Tito says. “You deserve more credit than you give yourself. It’s not such a crazy idea that someone would be into you.”

Mat’s silent for a minute, because as casually as Tito is able to say those words, they mean a lot to him. “I—thank you,” he says finally, and by that time Tito’s already moved on, more focused on driving them back home than on the emotional situation Mat’s having.

So, Tito takes them home, and Mat takes a short nap before trying on eleven different shirts that all look vaguely the same, finally settling on a pale blue Henley that he’s been told brings out the soft hazel of his eyes.

“You’re gonna kill it,” Tito says. “Just burgers with a guy you’re into. No big deal.”

“No big deal,” Mat echoes, pushes his sleeves up and then changes his mind and shoves them back down. Fuck, he’s nervous.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need me for anything,” Tito says, and then leaves Mat to freak out alone in the kitchen.

It’s 6:28 at that point, so Mat goes and gets himself a glass of water and drinks it all in one sip, and then the doorbell rings.

Mat goes over to the door, takes a deep breath, and opens it.

Jordan looks—his look is pretty simple, he’s wearing blue jeans, and a dark purple button-up, and sneakers, and he looks nothing short of amazing.

The first words out of Jordan’s mouth are, “You look great,” which is just unfair.

“ _You_ look great, I’m—wow,” Mat says, eloquent as always, and Jordan smiles.

“Ready to go?” Jordan says.

“Use protection!” Tito shouts, from the other room, and then, “Make safe choices!”

“Emphatically, I am,” Mat says, ignoring Tito as best he can.

Once he leads Jordan to the elevators he says, “Sorry about him,” ducking his head so Jordan can’t tell he’s embarrassed, and most likely blushing.

“I think it’s nice that he cares enough to embarrass you like that,” Jordan says, very pointedly not laughing.

Mat shrugs, as the elevators ding open. “That’s one way to think of it,” he says.

Either way, Jordan drops it, and they take the elevator down and then walk to Jordan’s car in comfortable silence.

Mat gets into the passenger seat of Jordan’s car—his _nice_ , shiny, expensive car, and immediately starts bouncing his leg and running his hands through his hair, to the point where when they hit a stoplight, Jordan reaches over and puts his hand on Mat’s knee. It’s simple, steadying, and instantly Mat stops. He looks over at Jordan and thinks about apologizing, because he’s being kind of a mess right now, but ultimately he decides against it once the light turns green again.

What he really needs to do is like. Relax.

Like Tito said, it’s just dinner.

  


 

 

Jordan takes him to a diner that claims it has the best burgers in town, so really, Mat can’t complain. Jordan also orders them both milkshakes, somehow knowing Mat’s favorite flavor is strawberry, and Mat sips it slowly, taking it all in. It’s quiet, but not uncomfortable, and Jordan clears his throat.

“So,” he starts. He looks at Mat and smiles, and Mat’s face flushes. “How was work today?”

“It was,” Mat says, shrugging. He slurps his milkshake, extremely overexaggerated, and Jordan laughs. “How about you?”

“Not bad. I’ve got like, a big project coming up in a few weeks? So, stressful I guess, but not bad,” Jordan says.

“Tell me about it,” Mat says, completely honest and way too vulnerable, but Jordan doesn’t mind, and he starts talking. Mat hangs off Jordan’s every word, impressed by everything he is and does. Mat also spends a lot of time thinking Jordan’s leveling way down by being here with him, but when Jordan finishes, he takes Mat’s hand casually and just holds it, so Mat’s not going to complain. In fact, he’s going to remain silent on that front. He blushes a bright red again, and Jordan chuckles.

“I’m glad you asked me out, eh?” he says, and Mat ducks his head.

“God, you can’t just say things like that on the _first date_ ,” Mat says, but they’re both smiling, neither of them acknowledging Mat’s little slip up. Jordan lets go of Mat’s hand to reach for the ketchup as their burgers are set down, and Mat is really out here having the best first date of his life after shooting his shot like that.

It’s like, probably one of the best days of his life.

  


 

 

If he’s being completely honest here, Mat thinks his whole life must have led up to this exact moment.

And, okay—hear him out, but like, the whole universe had to collapse on itself and millions and millions of atoms must have been created and destroyed, all so Mat Barzal could be here, making out with Jordan in the backseat of his car. Seriously, he can die happy now, knowing what Jordan sounds like when Mat sucks a hickey into his neck, when he grinds against Jordan’s hips for the hell of it.

How it sounds to hear Jordan breathe his name against his shoulder as Mat fumbles to unbutton Jordan’s shirt without pulling his mouth away from Jordan’s.

Christ, all of this is just surreal, honestly.

Jordan and Mat are both half undressed and fully hard when Mat’s phone rings.

Mat freezes, sighs when Jordan looks at him and says, “You should answer that.”

“Fuck me,” Mat mumbles, as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and sees that it’s Tito.

“What’s up, Tito,” he says.

“So I’m watching old reruns of _House Hunters_ , right, and there’s this couple that—”

“Tito,” Mat interrupts, because seriously, he could’ve absolutely texted about this.

“Shit, sorry—you were totally about to hook up with Jordan before I interrupted, weren’t you?”

“I mean,” Mat says, because he’s honestly not completely sure where this is going yet. “I’m not _not_ about to.”

“I’ll let you go,” Tito says. “But when you get home, I gotta show you this.”

“Sure,” Mat says, and then hangs up. “Sorry, that was—pretend that never happened. Can we start over?”

Jordan bites his lip and nods, maneuvers the two of them around so Mat’s lying on his back and Jordan’s on top and kisses him within an inch of his life until he can hardly think of anything but Jordan’s lips ghosting all over Mat’s neck.

It’s even better the second time around.

  
  


 

All Tito says as soon as Mat steps through the door is, “Dude,” but like. It suffices.

Needless to say, despite his best half-assed attempts at flattening his hair and looking somewhat put-together, Mat still manages to look completely wrecked.

“You get some tonight?” Tito says, eyes glued to the TV as he rewinds the episode to the beginning so he can watch with Mat.

“I mean, almost,” Mat shrugs. “I don’t put out on the first date, haven’t you heard?”

“Nope,” Tito says, grinning when Mat flips him off because honestly, he walked right into that one. Mat doesn’t even have to look at his face to know that he’s smirking, pretty proud of himself for it. “Anyway, don’t tell me about your sex life, that’s gross. You gotta watch this, though. This couple fought over fucking carpet colors for a solid twenty minutes, it’s ridiculous.”

“Sounds awful, I’ll go grab snacks,” Mat says, mostly so when he gets up he can make a beeline for the bathroom to check to see if any of the billion hickeys Jordan left on his neck are on display. They definitely are, he discovers, so the conclusion Mat draws from that is that Tito is a saint for not mentioning them, since there’s no way he didn’t see them.

Since he’s pretty sure Tito’s engrossed in his show anyway, Mat stays there a minute, runs a hand over one of the marks by his collarbone. He knows it’s dumb to get emotional, but. He made out with Jordan tonight, and he has the proof marked all over his neck, and it feels like a tiny victory, for some reason, even though they didn’t go much further than like, second base.

His life is pretty sweet right now.

  


 

 

Mat’s running late to work.

He ends up only walking in four minutes late, which in and of itself is a success, but he looks like a complete mess while doing so.

Like, he’s wearing a hoodie of questionable cleanliness, the sweatpants he slept in, and he forgot to make his hair look presentable before running out of the apartment.

Needless to say, he ends up needing a lot of caffeine to get himself through the first few hours of his shift.

Jordan comes in at the same time that he usually does, and the first thing he says to Mat after good morning is, “You look nice.”

“I look like shit,” Mat says, because lately his life has been one continuous study in effortless self-deprecation and deflection. It’s kind of his thing. “It’s fine. Your usual?”

“No, you don’t,” Jordan insists, impossibly fondly, and like—you can’t blame Mat for getting a little emotional about it. (It _is_ eight in the morning, after all.)

Instead of arguing, Mat rings up Jordan’s usual and busies himself with rearranging the stacks of cups on the counter as Mitch makes his drink.

Mat slides Jordan his drink silently, and Jordan says, “What are you doing tonight?”

“I hear they’re playing a Harry Potter marathon on ABC,” Mat says, flat. He knows he’s being stubborn, but he can’t really help it, because once he starts it’s hard to stop.

“Might you be able to take time out of your busy schedule to go on a date with me?” Jordan asks, and Mat—Mat looks up, then.

“I mean, I think I could pencil you in, yeah,” Mat says, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling at Jordan looking anything but certain that Mat would say yes. “What are we doing?”

“Surprise,” Jordan says, and then he leaves.

Seriously.

A minute later, Mat’s phone buzzes, but he’s slammed with the mid-morning rush so he doesn’t actually get to look at it until his break.

**Jordan (7:12 AM)**

Can’t wait to see you later, I’ll pick you up at 5 :)

Mat resists the urge to bother Jordan about where they’re going and what they’re doing, instead pocketing his phone and making himself a cup of coffee. He strolls into the break room, after, where Mitch and Taylor are arguing about something and, naturally, still managing to look stupidly into each other in the process, and Mat’s not quite in the specific mood to deal with their lovey dovey-ness, so he starts to back out of the room, but Taylor notices him before he gets the chance.

“Mat, hey!” he says, waving at him. “Come here, settle an argument for me.”

“What’s up, Raddy,” he says, dropping onto the couch next to the two of them.

“Mitch’s eyes,” Taylor starts.

“He has two of them,” Mat says, nodding.

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a shit, Barzy.”

Taylor sighs. “Are they blue or brown?”

“That’s—what the hell, Raddy?” Mat says, because like. They’re just eyes. It doesn’t really matter if they’re hazel or blue or whatever the fuck else.

“They can’t be both?”

“No, Barzy, they can’t be _both_ —”

“Taylor, they’re definitely blue.”

“They’re not, though—”

“They’re _my own eyes_ , I think I’d know what color my—”

“You know what?” Mat says, interrupting their bickering. Just to fuck with them both, he says, “Actually, they look pretty green to me.”

That shuts them both up for a good ten seconds, and Mat gets up, self-satisfied, and as he walks out of the room he hears Taylor say, “I mean, I guess I could see why he’d think that?”

Mat turns his attention back to his coffee, which he finishes in one long sip before going over to replace Chabby at the cash register.

“Knock ‘em dead, Barzy,” Chabby says, on his way into the break room.

“Always do, Chabby,” Mat says, giving him a mock-salute.

He kind of loves his coworkers sometimes.

  
  


 

One of Mat’s favorite things about Jordan, on any day of the week, is his smile, bright and happy and contagious.

Mat considers himself a pretty smooth guy, generally, but the more he’s around Jordan, the more he starts to lose his groove, unable to wrap Jordan around his finger the way he could with so many before him.

Jordan keeps Mat on his toes. Keeps Mat guessing, even second-guessing himself, not really quite sure if this thing between the two of them is, like, a serious thing, or just a classic case of Mat ruining his chance at getting it right this time, failing before he even has a chance to succeed—

But he digresses. Jordan takes him bowling.

They’re both pretty bad, but what they lack in skill they make up in enthusiasm and competitiveness, and Mat enjoys himself more than he honestly expected to.

Afterward, Jordan takes him to his favorite ice cream shop in the city, and the whole thing feels—easy. Like it never was with anyone else, because Mat’s determined to get it right, this time. Jordan deserves that.

Mat kisses Jordan goodbye against the door to his apartment, once Jordan’s taken him home, and mostly doesn’t dwell on the fact that butterflies do backflips in his ribcage when Jordan tucks a stray bit of hair behind Mat’s ear. “I like your hair like this,” he says, soft.

“I like everything about you,” Mat replies automatically, which is kind of a stupid thing to say, but it’s the truth, so.

Jordan smiles, says, “You’re sweet.”

Mat bites his lip. “You’ll text me, yeah?”

“‘Course,” Jordan says softly, and leans in for one final kiss before he has to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mat fumbles with unlocking the door, because he’s too distracted to focus on anything but the feeling of being on a high he can’t imagine coming down from. Like he’s the protagonist in an ‘80s romantic comedy, he leans against the door and, like, _sighs_ , and it’s stupid cheesy but he can’t help himself, he’s so genuinely happy.

“Dude, how’d it go?” Tito asks, from where he’s sitting on the couch and watching TV.

“I think I’m in love,” Mat says in lieu of a direct answer.

“Well, yeah, no shit,” Tito says. “I could’ve told you that a long time ago, dude.”

“Could you just let me have my mid-life crisis in peace, man? Like, this is a big deal.”

“I mean, I don’t think you’re quite in the middle of your life yet,” Tito says.

Mat glares at him, and Tito says, “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“Jordan is just—he’s so great, I don’t know,” Mat says, and Tito throws his phone onto his bed and walks out to meet Mat in the living room, because he’s a good bro and he can sense when a Mat Barzal Ramble is coming on. “He always laughs at my stupid jokes, and he’s gotten really unfairly good at dealing with all my shit, and I just—I feel like I can be myself around him, y’know? And I don’t feel that a lot, and I don’t know how to not fuck this up, but I really—I really like him, _shit_. I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, so,” Tito says, and then he takes a deep breath before gathering his thoughts. “First of all, you’re my best friend, and you’re the best person I know, full stop. And like, I think you’re doing just fine right now, honestly. He clearly likes you a lot, too.”

“I don’t know that—”

“You’ll figure it out, one of these days,” Tito says. “I’m like, ninety nine percent sure he likes you, if it helps.”

“Like, he likes me, or he _like_ -likes me?” Mat asks, ignoring how middle-school-crush that sentence felt.

“Like-like for sure,” Tito confirms seriously.

“Those are good odds,” Mat says, and then, “You’re a good bro.”

“Hell yeah I am,” Tito grins. “C’mon, there’s a House Hunters marathon on HGTV right now that I don’t wanna miss.” And Mat can’t say no to that, so.

  
  
  


The shop is so slow one Sunday that Mat texts Tito to come and buy something, anything, because they only sold coffee or food between like, 6 and 7 that morning, and nothing else has happened since and it’s almost 11. Tito, being the best friend he is, comes and does buy a chocolate croissant and a dirty chai, and even sits in the shop so Mat, Mitch, and Taylor can talk to him.

“You’re like, too good of a friend, you know,” Mitch says from behind the counter. Mat squawks in protest, and he can hear Jozy snickering from the drive through window. “Like, Mat doesn’t deserve you.”

“Ouch,” Mat says, fake wincing, and Tito laughs.

“Nah, he’s pretty decent. I’ve had _a lot_ of practice in understanding Mathew Barzal,” Tito quips, and Mat huffs a little, but he’s smiling. He really isn’t a _bad_ friend, he just gets grumpy and sad easily, and understanding the way his moods swing is hard. He gets it. Tito has like 5 years on these guys.

“Oh, hey, Jordan,” Taylor says loudly, and Mat almost jumps. Almost.

“Hi,” he says. “Hey, Mat.”

“Hi,” Mat waves, and Tito is looking at him, jaw dropped. He mouths _Jordan???_ at Mat and Mat gives him the tightest smile. It blooms into a real smile when he looks back at Jordan. “Whatcha in for today?”

“I don’t know, surprise me,” Jordan says, winking, and Mat absolutely does not blush. He doesn’t.

“Okay,” he responds, softly, with a small smile on his face, and Jozy gapes as Mitch whispers an almost silent “what the fuck.”

Jordan sits at a table and texts someone, and then suddenly Mat can hear Tito talking, which makes him suspicious, and sure enough, there’s Tito _talking to Jordan_.

“Um, Tito?” Mat says, blinking rapidly. Tito turns around and just smiles, and Jordan leans around Tito to look at Mat.

“Oh! Is this roommate Tito?” Jordan asks, face filled with glee, and Tito smiles even bigger. It’s a giant, shit-eating, completely and utterly Tito face to make, and Mat tries to keep his emotions in check. His heart is bursting because Jordan looks so happy and also he is going to scream because Tito is _the worst_.

“The one and only,” Mat says, and Jordan and Tito laugh at that, and now Mat’s heart is going to burst if only because his best friend and his… whatever he and Jordan’s relationship status is are getting along and laughing with each other and like, Mat just has a lot of love in his heart, okay?

“Nice to meet you,” Jordan says, sticking his hand out, and Tito shakes it. “Thanks for your comments, they really helped us out,” he continues, winking at Mat, and Mat almost spills Jordan’s drink. Mitch laughs hysterically, falling on the ground.

“Oh Mat, he’s perfect,” Tito says dreamily, and Mat hates this, he hates this so much, but here’s all of his friends and Jordan getting along and having fun together and like. Can he really complain?

“You’re all awful and I hate you,” Mat grumbles, bringing Jordan’s drink around.

“Somehow I don’t think you do,” Jordan says, kissing Mat quickly. Mat does blush, this time, and Tito very graciously does not give him shit for it, which is why Tito is the best. “You mind if I stay and hang out?”

“No,” Tito, Mitch, and Jozy say at the same time, and Mat laughs.

“No, they don’t, but neither do I,” he says, and Jordan smiles.

“Great, I’ll stick around for a bit,” Jordan says.

“His shift ends at 2,” Taylor offers, and Mat is bright red. Jordan is clearly loving this, so Mat will let him have it. Whatever. You win some, and your friends and your not-yet-boyfriend shoot the shit during your shift, or however the saying goes.

“Could you be coerced into food afterwards?” Jordan asks.

“I could,” Mat responds, smiling, and Tito is staring at them both, so Mat throws a coffee cup lid at him. It startles Jordan into laughing, and Mat walks back behind the counter, content to watch them hang out with each other.

He might even go so far as to say it’s been a really great shift.

  
  
  


Things slow down, after that. Jordan gets busy at work, Mat can only assume, from how he hasn’t seen him in going on three weeks. That’s fine—Mat gets over himself after the first week, with fully the right amount of ice cream and ignoring Tito every time he asks why he’s moping, and if Jordan broke his heart or something right after he’d finally gotten to know him. He acknowledges that he got attached too quickly, and goes back to ringing up coffee, complaining about the early shift, not flirting with any of his customers, and generally looking and feeling less awake than all his coworkers. For a few weeks, everything is as it was before Jordan stumbled into Mat’s life, and it’s fine, slowly falling into a new routine.

Jordan walks into the shop for the first time in a month in the middle of a brutal snowstorm, looking stupidly good even in the dead of winter when it’s too cold to not be wearing, like, three layers whenever you want to go outside. He dumps his things on a coffee table toward the back and makes his way to where Mat’s chatting with Mitch and stacking coffee cups.

Mitch cuts off something Mat’s saying with a, “Hey, isn’t that—”

“Jordan,” Mat says, when he looks up. He drops the cups in his hands all over the floor, which is embarrassing, but Mat himself is pretty embarrassing, generally, so he hardly finds it in him to care. “Um. Long time no see.”

He doesn’t want to ask what he did wrong. He doesn’t think about how he was so sure he’d gotten over the non-thing they had, but just seeing him again brings all the feelings back as soon as they’d left, doesn’t think about how he knows he was right, that whatever they had was over before it even started—

“I’m sorry,” Jordan says, in any case. “I was working on a big case, and it took longer than expected. Long hours, y’know, and I kept meaning to call you, but time got away from me, and I—I should’ve told you.”

“Oh,” Mat says, because he doesn’t really know what else to say. Maybe he’s imagining the way that Jordan frowns when he asks, “So, your regular?”

“Yeah,” Jordan says, lets Mat ring up his order and then not look at him as he says, “That’ll be $2.10.”

Once Jordan pays, Mat watches him talk with Mitch as his drink is made, as Mat rings up the other people who have accumulated in the line. When he finishes, he walks over Jordan and says, “Jordan, I don’t—I think you should go.”

Mitch takes that as his opportunity to leave to go anywhere but the middle of that conversation, as Jordan says, “Mat,” trying to reason with the unreasonable. Many before him have failed, and Mat’s not going to blame him for trying.

“I’m just kind of a mess right now,” Mat explains. “Like, it’s ten in the morning, and I have a wicked hangover, and I don’t know if I can do this with you right now.”

“Can we talk?” Jordan asks softly. “You can say no.”

Mat really needs to unlearn this whole run-away-from-his-problems thing. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. “Yeah, okay. Let me just get someone to cover me for a minute.” He calls for Jozy, who asks zero questions and tells him to take his time, because he’s an absolute saint.

Jordan takes him to his car, and Mat slides into the passenger seat and mostly doesn’t think about the last time he was in this car. “I’m sorry,” Jordan says again, and Mat really doesn’t want to do this.

“Don’t say that,” Mat says.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Jordan says, after a minute, and it’s not supposed to sting as much as it does, because Mat will admit he’s being pretty difficult right now, but. It stings, it really does.

So Mat talks, and talks, and doesn’t look at Jordan while he talks. “You’re just—you make it hard, okay? I take things and I ruin them, that’s what I do, and that’s fine. Everyone I’ve ever cared about has caught onto it except you, for some reason, but you’re kind, and kind of gorgeous, and you tell me that I look nice when I don’t, and you try to deal with all my shit even when I try so hard to not let you, and it’s—a lot, and you’re probably going to stop seeing _whatever_ you saw in me now, which I wouldn’t even blame you for. I knew I was going to mess this up eventually, but this soon is—I don’t know, it’s not fun, I guess.”

He’s rambling, and he knows it, and the look on Jordan’s face when he finally stops is nothing short of heartbreaking, honestly.

“You’re not—” Jordan starts to say, and then he stops to start over. “You didn’t mess anything up. Seriously, I’m not any less into you because you’re a little stubborn or self-deprecating sometimes. Give yourself a chance, okay? You’ve got so many great qualities, and it’s not a bad thing to not be perfect, you know, but I’m not giving up on you, and you shouldn’t either.”

Mat doesn’t say anything, for a long while, just talking himself down from a panic attack as he lets Jordan’s words sink in. Finally, he says, “You look nice in that sweater. The purple makes your eyes pop.”

Jordan smiles at that, the smallest upturn of his mouth, and says, “Thank you.”

“I should go—um. I work until two,” Mat says, looking down at his hands.

Jordan leans down to lace their fingers together, and waits for Mat to look up at him before saying, “Go on a date with me, let me make it up to you.”

“You still don’t have to apologize for—”

“Don’t fight me,” Jordan says gently.

“Okay,” Mat says. His heart is in his stomach. “Okay, yeah, I will.”

“There’s an ice rink that just opened up near my house,” Jordan says, letting go of Mat’s hand. “Are you busy Sunday?”

“I am now,” Mat says, grinning slightly, and then he leans over and kisses him, long and hard, because he owes it to himself to kiss Jordan Eberle after the talk they just had.

He walks back into the shop, and when Jozy and Mitch see him, they immediately fall silent. “You good?” Jozy says, after a minute.

“Fine,” Mat says, and that answer might be the best it’s going to get.

Jozy nods, and Mitch says, “If it means anything to you, it seems like he really does like you.”

“Let’s hope,” Mat says, going for lightly self-deprecating. Somewhere in between one breath and the next, it falls flat.

  
  


 

The rest of the week passes in a bit of a haze, until Sunday finally rolls around.

Jordan shows up at Mat’s door with a grocery bag that he hands Mat in lieu of a hello.

“What’s this—” he says, and when he looks inside, there’s a bunch of his favorite types of candy. “What’s all this for?”

Jordan shrugs, says, “I’ve been told you don’t like flowers.”

“I don’t, they’re tacky,” Mat confirms immediately, because he can’t help himself.

“So this is the next best thing,” Jordan says, and Mat thinks of doing something stupid like kissing him.

What he does instead is says, “You’re the best, thank you,” and leads Jordan inside. He goes over to his bedroom and stashes the peanut m&ms under his bed, and carries the Red Vines with him to store in Jordan’s car somewhere, in case of emergency.

“You look good,” Jordan says, on the elevator down.

“Stop, I don’t—”  Mat says, and then he realizes what he’s doing and stops himself. “Thank you.”

Jordan nods, satisfied, and doesn’t say anything else until they’re pulling into the rink parking lot. The silence is comfortable, and Mat pulls his own skates out, and Jordan looks embarrassed. “You okay?” Mat asks, and Jordan runs his hands through his hair.

“You...have your own skates. This isn’t something I was anticipating.” Jordan drags him to the skate rental and it clicks with Mat.

“Oh, buddy, you know I play hockey in college right? Like D1 hockey? Have I mentioned that?” Mat laughs a little. “Like, I got drafted and everything.”

“You mentioned it,” Jordan confirms, but he still looks embarrassed. “I just thought it was like, intramural?”

Mat laughs loudly, but Jordan doesn’t look upset, just rather pleased with himself, and Mat is incredibly fond. “I know you’re a lawyer and all, but you’re kind of dumb.” He kisses Jordan’s cheek to take the sting of that comment away, and Jordan flushes a light pink.

“Maybe,” he agrees, and they lace up their skates. Mat pretends not to notice how unstable he looks on them until they get on the ice and Jordan immediately falls. “Ow.”

“Shit, you good?” Mat asks, reaching down to help him up. There’s only a few other people on this rink, and like three of them are under 5 and about to skate laps around them if this is how it’s gonna go. He’s gonna try not to laugh as best he can, but really, Jordan looks so petulant it’s a bit difficult to not smile.

“Fine,” Jordan grunts, and he immediately grabs onto the wall, balance getting away from him.

“Jordan,” Mat says, gently. He can’t stop smiling. He reaches a hand out. “Take my hand. I won’t let you fall, okay?”

“I played hockey too, okay? I’m from _Canada_ ,” Jordan whines.

Mat giggles. “How old were you, 7, and it was a peewee team?” Jordan takes a step and wobbles, and Mat throws an arm out to steady him. When Jordan doesn’t answer, Mat looks up at him, and he’s resolutely staring at the ground. “Oh my god, Jordan.”

“Okay so maybe I last played hockey when I was like, 8, whatever,” he says, only a little bitter, and Mat laughs again. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not, I promise,” Mat says, letting another giggle out. Jordan frowns, and Mat sobers a little, cupping Jordan’s cheek with his hand, and kissing him gently. “Hey, it’s cute. Come on, we’ll go slow for now.”

They don’t make it one lap before Jordan falls again, and almost drags Mat down with him. “Why me,” Jordan groans, and Mat giggles again, pulling him up in a way that won’t make him fall. “You’re good at helping people not fall, though.”

“I’m a linesman and a skating instructor in the winter,” Mat says, and Jordan raises his eyebrows. “It’s...I like hockey, man.” Mat shrugs and tugs Jordan forward a little, and Jordan stumbles.

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath, but he’s smiling, so Mat counts it as a win. Jordan stumbles into him again and his eyes get impossibly wide, but Mat steadies him.

“Hey,” he says, and Jordan just stares. Mat scratches lightly at Jordan’s lower back. “You’re good. I’ve got you.” Jordan leans his head on Mat’s shoulder, and Mat presses a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s cute, dude. Like, you’re really cute.”

“Maybe that was my plan all along,” Jordan mumbles into his shoulder, and Mat laughs quietly.

“Your sheer panic when you fell into me could not have been planned,” Mat says, and Jordan huffs out a laugh. “One more lap and then we can go, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay, but can I just stand here?” Jordan asks, and Mat shakes his head. “Alright, worth a try.” Mat pulls Jordan along slowly, but they make their way around without Jordan falling. He trips coming off the ice, though, and Mat is maybe really in love with this guy.

As they make their way to the car, Mat bumps shoulders with him. “You improved even in our short skating lesson. I’m proud of you.” Jordan just smiles in response. They sit in Jordan’s car for a bit as he fiddles with the radio knobs. “Do you...like, do you want me to go home? Or.” Mat sounds awkward, but Jordan just takes his hand.

“Come home with me, yeah?” he asks, impossibly soft and sweet, and Mat just nods. “Awesome.”

The drive to Jordan’s is quiet, save for the soft country music that comes through the speakers. Mat doesn’t even like country, but he could try for Jordan, maybe. That kind of thought scares the shit out of him, but he doesn’t text Tito that and he doesn’t say anything to Jordan, which is probably an improvement, he thinks.

“Hey,” Jordan says quietly once they’re inside. Mat looks over at him, and the lighting in the apartment is soft and low and Mat wants nothing except to get his hands on Jordan, right now. “Come here.”

Mat walks toward him slowly, and Jordan catches him in his arms easily, and kisses him. It’s lazy at first, neither of them needing more, until Mat bites Jordan’s lip, and Jordan makes an obscene noise. “Okay, bedroom,” Mat breathes, and Jordan nods, pushing him there. Mat fumbles with the buttons on Jordan’s shirt a little as he tries to get it off. “Why do you wear so many button-ups?” he asks in between kisses, and Jordan laughs.

“Why are you so beautiful?” Jordan shoots back, and, really, Mat doesn’t have an answer for that. Jordan unbuttons Mat’s jeans, slipping them down, and lays him back. “It’s a lot for me.”

“Have you seen you?” Mat asks, and then Jordan is sucking him off, and everything short circuits. He’s not thinking about Jordan’s dumb button-ups or Jordan’s compliments, it’s just _Jordan, Jordan, Jordan_ on a loop in his brain. Jordan pulls off with a pop and Mat looks at him.

“You like that?” Jordan asks, and Mat laughs, which Jordan takes as a confirmation, and Mat reaches up and kisses him. Jordan holds him down slightly, and Mat definitely likes that, which Jordan recognizes. “Oh, okay.”

“Just, keep doing...that?” Mat says, and Jordan sucks a bruise onto Mat’s collarbone, and Mat’s nails dig into Jordan’s bare shoulder, and Jordan gasps. Mat does it again, but on purpose, this time, and Jordan makes the noise again. They keep playing at this game of teasing and letting up until Mat breathes out, “Fuck me, dude.”

“If you want,” Jordan says quietly into Mat’s neck, and then he fucks Mat until Mat can’t see straight, and Mat is in absolute bliss. When he comes, his entire body arches, and Jordan holds him so delicately that Mat almost does something stupid, like say “I love you,” but he doesn’t, and instead he just cries a little. Jordan kisses those tears away, and they lay there, just breathing together.

“That was…” Mat trails off, and Jordan kisses him.

“Pretty incredible,” he finishes, and Mat nods. “You wanna stay for breakfast?”

“Sure,” Mat replies, and he falls asleep like that, curled into Jordan, endlessly happy.

Which means, of course, that he immediately ruins it, when Jordan makes him coffee before starting the food, and Mat says, “I love you,” and Jordan’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Are...you...wait,” Jordan says, and Mat realizes what he said, and he shuts down, pushing the coffee away. “Mat.”

“Nope, no, I’m sorry, sorry I...fuck, I’m an idiot, and I have to go,” he rambles, tears in his eyes.

“Mat, wait,” Jordan pleads, and Mat shakes his head.

“Just let me fucking _leave_ ,” he snaps, and Jordan flinches, and the tears finally fall as he runs out of the apartment. He doesn’t want to know how much he fucked this up, and when he gets to his apartment, he crawls into Tito’s bed and curls himself around Tito, who reaches out for him.

“Wanna talk about it?” he mumbles, and Mat sniffs, shaking his head. “Okay. I’m here when you do.”

Mat never does.

  
  
  


Mat isn’t moping.

Just—Mitch and Taylor have apparently gotten their shit together, sometime in between, like, Taylor telling Mitch his eyes look nice and blue two days ago, which would also be two days after Mat had fucked everything up with Jordan, to now, when the three of them are out to lunch after work and Mitch steals a fry from Taylor’s plate and kisses him square on the mouth when Taylor tries to protest.

Mat opens his text conversation with Tito to complain about how gross they are, but also how nice it is that they finally stopped dancing around how into each other they are, but his last text to Tito was a complaint about how love is capitalistic bullshit and not worth a minute of Mat’s time, so.

Alright, so, Mat might be moping, a little. Maybe.

Taylor’s resting his head against Mitch’s shoulder when he asks, “How’s Jordan? I haven’t heard you talk about him in awhile.”

He’s being friendly, trying to make conversation, Mat _knows_ , but he can’t help the feeling of guilt that washes over him, not for the first time since he left Jordan’s apartment in near-tears and likely not the last, either. “No fucking clue,” he finally settles on, hoping it doesn’t come out overly bitter.

“What happened?” Taylor asks. Mitch is running a hand through Taylor’s hair, now, his other hand holding Taylor’s, and Mat has never seen Mitch this fucking soft in the four-odd months he’s known him, and he wants to scream.

“I fucked up, is what happened, okay,” Mat says, flat. When their waitress comes over and asks if they need anything, he orders a sundae with extra chocolate syrup, because he’s never known how to drown his sorrows in anything other than food. “Like, things were going fine, and then I told him I loved him and panicked and left, basically.”

“Why’d you do that?” Mitch asks, scrunches his nose.

“I don’t know, genius,” Mat says, a little mean. He thinks about apologizing, but his sundae is set in front of him before he can dwell on it too long, and after he takes his first bite, the moment has passed.

“I mean—you do, right?” Taylor asks, overly thoughtful for a conversation about how irresponsible Mat is about his own dumb feelings.

“Well, yeah, I do,” Mat says, automatic, something as easy for him as tying his shoes or calling his mom every Sunday. It doesn’t feel nearly as Earth-shaking as it did the first time.

“So I don’t see the problem?” Mitch says, and Taylor elbows him, turns to give him a look as if to wordlessly tell him to stop and quit while he’s ahead here.

“That’s rough,” Taylor says, because he’s the only one who gets Mat anymore, apparently. “Have you talked to him since?”

Mat ponders how to truthfully answer that, thinks about the four unanswered text messages and two missed calls—one where Jordan even left a voicemail—and decides on a firm, “Nope.”

“I mean, look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but communication is key, right?” Taylor says, and gives Mat a minute to evaluate the idea before he continues. “What I’m saying is you should talk to Jordan. This happened on Tuesday—”

“Sunday,” Mat corrects. God, it’s been almost a week, Jordan would be absolutely stupid to take him back after this long.

“Okay, Sunday. I’m sure he’ll understand if you tell him how you feel and all that. And if he doesn’t, the diner has free milkshakes after 4pm on Fridays.”

The same diner Jordan took Mat to, he doesn’t reply with.

Halfway through his ice cream, he has a small but mighty epiphany. He drops a $5 on the table, says his goodbyes to the old married couple, and makes his way back home. On the elevator up, he texts Jordan.

**Mat (3:04 PM)**

can you come over

**Mat (3:06 PM)**

please

**Mat (3:10 PM)**

i’m sorry

**Mat (3:04 PM)**

if you’re coming over, bring my red vines theyre in the back seat of your car

Mat paces around the entire apartment for a full eternity after that until the doorbell rings, and then he thinks, like. It’s now or never. And then he opens the door for Jordan.

“Hey,” Jordan says. “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” comes Mat’s reply, as Jordan hands him his Red Vines. “Come in, we need to talk.”

He leads Jordan to the couch, and says, “Listen, I’m sorry.”

Jordan sighs, and Mat rips the bag open, shoves one of the Red Vines in his mouth, anticipating what Jordan’s about to say. “I know you made a mistake, but I can’t keep—”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Mat hears himself say, and no matter how true it was, he doesn’t know where the fuck that came from.

Jordan looks at him sort of like a deer in the headlights, so Mat explains himself. “You know, I really am trying to be less—the way that I am, for you, because it’s a lot to handle. I just—I was overly emotional about a cup of coffee, okay, and I panicked about it, but—that wasn’t a mistake. I do love you, and I meant to say it at some point, just not that one, maybe. It’s about time for me to stop running away from that fact, so.”

Jordan sits looking thoughtful for a minute, and Mat makes his way through almost four Red Vines before he says anything. “I just—you see how this is hard for me, right?” he finally says, running a nervous hand through hair.

Mat starts to forget why they have to do this when he says, “I know, and it won’t happen again, I swear.” There’s a tinge of desperation in his voice as he says it, and he belatedly hopes it isn’t for nothing.

“I just want you to talk to me when things like this happen,” Jordan says.

“I mean, I don’t really talk to people who aren’t Tito or my mom about my feelings,” Mat says, and when he realizes how wrong that came out he adds, “but I want to try. I think I owe you that much.”

“I really love you, too, y’know,” Jordan says, and he’s smiling, this soft, beautiful thing, and Mat’s missed this more than he can say.

Mat’s smile is near-blinding when he says, “So we’re good?”

“Come here,” Jordan says, pulling Mat into a kiss, and God, Mat will never not love the noises Jordan makes when Mat bites on his lip just so. “Yeah, we’re good, babe.”

Mat grins, leans down and kisses Jordan some more before asking, “So, you wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Absolutely I do,” Jordan says, and Mat’s officially never been happier.

  
  
  


**[epilogue]**

Mat’s walking out of the break room, about to go burn some time until his shift is over by making himself coffee, when Jozy calls out, “Barz, your boyfriend’s here.”

And, really, he didn’t even have to say that because Mat’s face lights up when he sees Jordan, just as bright as the day they had officially gotten together.

(And before that, but that’s only because Mat Barzal has never hidden any part of his emotions as long as he’s lived.)

“Hey,” Mat says, going for casual and, naturally, failing miserably, so he thinks _fuck it_ and pulls Jordan into a kiss.

He’s still smiling when he pulls away, and Jordan’s looking at him like he hung the moon in the damn sky—which, really, it’s the other way around—when he says, “Hi.”

“I missed you,” Mat says.

“I saw you yesterday,” Jordan says.

“What, I’m not allowed to miss my boyfriend?” Mat asks, throwing his arms up in faux-protest.

Jordan laughs and says, “Definitely not what I meant.”

“Gross,” Mitch calls from the register. “Your regular, Ebs?”

“That’d be great, thank you,” Jordan says.

Over the past month and a half, his regular has changed to an iced double dirty chai with soy milk, thanks in total part to the day Mat got drunk and made Jordan like, a dozen different drinks until Jordan found one he genuinely liked, and he’s stuck with it ever since.

“Anytime you wanna, like, do your job would be great,” Mitch says, as he starts to make the drink.

“I’m off the clock, buddy,” Mat says, even though it’s only actually 1:59.

“‘Off the clock’ my ass,” Mitch says, but he’s grinning, and then he says, “Raddy, babe, help me out here.”

“That’s my cue to leave,” Mat says, rolling his eyes in a way that’s a necessary amount of dramatic.

“Don’t be mean,” Jordan says.

“No, it’s definitely cute,” Mat says. He and Jordan look over as Taylor walks over, wraps his arms around Mitch from behind. “Just—you know. Equally disgusting.”

“Coming from someone who had to deal with your big fat crush on Ebs, I think it’s _adorable_ ,” Jozy says, looking smug when Mat tries to protest but realizes he has absolutely no leverage here.

“You guys are the worst and I’m leaving!” Mat announces, and takes Jordan hand as they walk out.

“Jordan,” Taylor calls, because he’s always the reasonable half of the Mat-and-Jordan show. “We’re all going out to dinner at 5, you two in?”

“Definitely, we’ll be there,” Jordan says, and Mat kind of loves his life right now—period, end of sentence, no _but_ tacked onto the end this time.

**Author's Note:**

> there's a brief panic attack mention, only happens once.
> 
> thank you for reading! for more rarepair nonsense, [follow us](http://twitter.com/bboesers) [on twitter.](http://twitter.com/adamsparirsh)


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